


you're my violet in the sun

by sikkie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends With Romantic Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, as much as you can in 2k words, they're both stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sikkie/pseuds/sikkie
Summary: Sehun and Chanyeol are best friends in love. Except they don’t exactly know about the “in love” part.





	you're my violet in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> title from daniel caesar’s “violet” and “transform.” hope you enjoy!
> 
> crossposted on [aff](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1282168/1)

 

If it weren’t for the looks and comments they were receiving from various other members, Sehun would more so than not enjoy his time in Chanyeol’s lap, his lips hot against the back of Sehun’s neck, contradictingly making the hairs on his neck stand up. He settles against the man’s chest for a change, shifting to get comfortable and “less gross”, yet the complaints still reach his ears because please don’t do anything to make me throw up these dumpling appetizers, you two, ‘cause these are really good and _hey,_ _Jongin took the last one!_

 

“Can’t I love my boyfriend in my own house?” Chanyeol whines, and he presses his lips against Sehun’s temple to prove his point. Sehun shivers.

 

“Not while we’re here, asshole. You invited us over to watch reruns of Shut Up Flower Boy Band. Now we’re watching the news as you two swallow each other whole. Not my idea of a good time!” The exasperated hand signals Jongdae uses makes Sehun snort. It reminds him of when Chanyeol would tell Sehun a story from his childhood, making everything that much more expressive as Sehun nearly falls out of his chair from leaning forward in interest.

 

At times like these, Sehun didn’t mind the whines and complaints from their closest friends. As long as he got to show that him and Chanyeol were so, _so_ helplessly in love and _each other’s_ , Sehun didn’t mind. They would have to deal with it. Even with Yixing howling, chanting Sehun, Sehun, _Sehun, Sehun, Sehun, Sehun_

 

_Sehun, wake up! Sehun!_

 

Sehun starts with a jolt. His chest heaves and he sits up, soon staring right into Park Chanyeol’s large doe-eyes. Sehun shakes his head in disbelief.

 

“Wet dream?” Chanyeol snickers, patting the younger man’s cheek before kissing his forehead, lingering. Sehun sighs.

 

“I’m ordering breakfast. I burnt another pan. Rice and over-easy alright?” and as soon as Chanyeol appears, he’s gone, yet the ghost of his lips never leave Sehun’s skin. Sehun furiously rubs at his forehead.

 

He doesn’t think about his odd dream for the rest of the morning, even when Chanyeol reaches over with a napkin when a little coffee drips down Sehun’s chin. Sehun quietly thanks him for the friendly gesture. Sehun’s fingers drum along the tabletop and Chanyeol reaches over wordlessly to steady him. After that, he doesn’t remove his hand.

  


When Chanyeol and Sehun arrive at the photoshoot location, the other members are already there getting makeup and hair done. Sehun jumps as a stylist comes out of nowhere, excusing herself as she pulls Chanyeol away to the other side of the room, and Sehun prays to whatever’s out there for them to not touch the boy’s hair. He thinks Chanyeol looks great in any hair color, but there’s something about brown that makes him look a bit ethereal—so soft and beautiful. Sehun remembers Chanyeol coming home one afternoon with a beanie pulled down over his ears. As soon as Sehun saw the tuft of green, he had called their manager. Turns out it was temporary, and Sehun had gotten right into the shower with him, shampoo bottle in hand. At every chance he got, Sehun would nag Chanyeol’s ear off about the current state of their tub— _hey, I’m not the one that wanted to wash my hair out, Einstein. At least this time it’s hair dye and not actual mold._

 

This photoshoot seemed to be another one of minimalistic nature, making Sehun sigh out in relief. They would leave the boy’s hair alone, maybe put him in some glasses and blush. Now everyone would be able to see how Chanyeol looks when he wakes up: hair mussed, rose-tinted cheeks. Sehun shrugs away the twist in his gut.

 

Chanyeol smiles up at the girl working on his faux freckles. Pretty brown eyes, thin lips, high cheekbones. She’s pretty, Chanyeol thinks, as he peers over her shoulder at Sehun, who was currently getting his makeup done across the room. They were making his lips a shade darker, less pink and more of a reddish hue. Chanyeol recognizes the state of Sehun’s lips, akin to when Chanyeol had once kissed the younger to congratulate him on the award he had won that night, meaning to be chaste, yet never leaning back. After a few minutes, he would pull away and Sehun’s lips would be redder, slicker, more puffy. Sehun would hit him on the shoulder because _now I have to reapply my chapstick, you ass. Did it at least taste like raspberry cheesecake?_

 

With makeup and hair done, the directors pair the boys up. Everyone is tired and moving slow, including both Sehun and Chanyeol, who drag their feet across the floor as they make their way to where they need to be on set. Their fingers are laced together out of habit—Sehun has always found that he loves the way Chanyeol’s larger ones completely engulf his own. They both think it’s adorable, even if the other members think Chanyeol’s hands are borderline freakish.

 

The director raises an eyebrow at the pair, mumbling something to the assistant that neither of them can quite hear from the distance. When the stylists get on set, they immediately pull the two apart, one of the older women tutting at the behavior, telling them there’s no need to be so close with another man. Sehun looks at Chanyeol in confusion, the other returning his stare with a slight eye twitch before breaking out into a signature smile for the staff. The older woman returns it, and Sehun scowls.

 

They position the boys so that Chanyeol is leaning his forearm on Sehun’s shoulder, and not much else. Their legs are far apart, the only thing connecting their bodies being Chanyeol’s arm, their heads facing in opposite directions. The photographer thinks it’s art. Chanyeol thinks it’s stupid.

 

Art is Sehun’s soft, red lips, he thinks. Art is his best friend’s cheeks dusted a pretty pink, nose perfectly contoured, eyelashes like silk fans shielding his beautiful eyes from anything that may harm them. Sehun is art. Chanyeol facing in the opposite direction, where Sehun’s face isn’t located, is _not_ art.

 

Baekhyun tries to waver Sehun’s solemn expression by making sounds on the other side of the room, but Sehun is in his own head. All he can think about as the cameras flash is what the older lady had said. He almost dismissed it as her being old, because nowadays, best friends are very close to each other, very affectionate. They hold hands, they hug, they cuddle, they stare. Kyungsoo, being Chanyeol’s other closest friend, just doesn’t do that stuff because it’s not like him, it’s not his personality. That’s the only reason why Kyungsoo and Chanyeol don’t kiss and hug like Sehun and Chanyeol do. That’s the reason he rolls his eyes when Sehun sits on Chanyeol’s lap on the couch. Because Kyungsoo just isn’t like that. That’s just how Kyungsoo and he differ.

 

So as the photographer remarks on how _exquisite_ they look, Sehun thinks back to the time him and Chanyeol were watching Japanese fighter movies with Sehun settled between the elder’s legs, Chanyeol playing with his hair. They both thought it was an opportune time to brush up on their Japanese, all while watching fake swords fake slice through CGI stomachs.

 

“Sehun, have you ever thought about getting married?”

 

Sehun’s jaw drops slightly, snorting as he looks up in disbelief, “Chanyeol, the guy just got his head cut straight off. Be sensible.”

 

“But have you? I’m serious.”

 

“Us? Well, to be honest, no. Do best friends get married? I don’t know because in general, I don’t think about marriage.”

 

“I meant in general.”

 

“Oh.”

 

It’s silent after that, minus the sounds of guts spilling to the floor emanating from the television, making everything a bit less awkward between the two of them. The stillness of the air dissipates when Chanyeol’s fingers scratch at his scalp, conversation forgotten.

 

Now it’s remembered, though. The sternness in Sehun’s eyes—the director had tried to replicate the gaze from a model in the Vogue magazine he had worked on the week before—alleviates, but once he tilts his head in the slightest to look at the boy next to him, the photographer tsks.

 

Chanyeol doesn’t particularly take notice to the photographer’s remarks as he watches Sehun approach him after walking through their apartment door. He’s soaking wet and shivering, face flushed and eyelashes sticking together. Chanyeol ushers him in, not even caring if he’s getting the floor all wet, rushing him to their shared bathroom. Sehun can barely string words together with how his teeth chatter. He pulls a towel from the back of the door to wrap around him before starting a warm bath. _I don’t know about v-v-vanilla, Sehunnie, but I can definitely add vanilla if that’s what you’re referring to._ Sehun actually has the energy to sock him on the arm.

 

A few minutes later, Chanyeol turns off the lights, leaving the nightlight on as he climbs in the tub behind a now non-shivering Sehun. Additional body heat couldn’t hurt, he thinks as he pulls Sehun into him. Sehun is drifting off, but has the wherewithal to mumble _thank you, hyung, thank you Chanyeol, hey Chanyeol, Chanyeol-ssi? Chanyeol! God, could you get his attention, Sehun?_

 

“Chanyeol.”

 

Sehun’s velvety voice instantly brings Chanyeol back to reality, like the voice of a deity lifting him out of a black hole. He snaps his head towards Sehun, who’s scrutinizing him with those brown eyes, steadiness disturbed by a flash of concern, confusion, and ultimately realization. Chanyeol returns the stare, all other forms of life fading into the background. All Chanyeol can focus on is Sehun’s face, so close, _so, so close._ Chanyeol wants to kiss him. Sehun wants to take Chanyeol to the nearest bathroom.

 

“Alright, take five. I seriously can’t work with these two,” the director is exasperated, and the photographer groans as he’s taken out of his _zone._ Neither Chanyeol nor Sehun moves an inch.

Then, after the particularly slick remark of _finally_ by Chanyeol’s other closest friend Kyungsoo, Chanyeol reaches out and wraps his fingers around Sehun's small wrist, pulling him away from the scene, away from the stylists and the other members, away from _anyone that isn't himself_ and into the empty hallway.

 

“What’s… what’s going on, Sehun?” Chanyeol’s chin quivers.

 

“I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re right next to me and I _can’t stop thinking about you._ ”

 

“Sehun,” he looks on the verge of tears. Sehun’s fists are balled by his sides. “Sehun, please.”

 

Sehun can’t fathom the environment around him—the fluorescent lights, the rain _pit-pit-pit_ on the roof of the building—only Chanyeol’s eyes slowly watering. Only Chanyeol when Sehun had told him he felt insignificant in the group, kissing his forehead and singing Sehun’s lyrics back to him, Chanyeol when Sehun had burned his hand trying to bake him muffins, tripping as he ran to the bathroom to get the ointment and first aid kit, _Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s being._ It’s all Sehun wants. It’s all he _needs._

 

Sehun doesn’t look around him, doesn’t check for onlookers, doesn’t focus on anything but the man right in front of him. He fists his hands in Chanyeol’s collar, effectively pulling him down and slotting their mouths together. This time it’s not meant to be chaste. He wants Chanyeol to know he wants him, wants him as _his._

 

Chanyeol doesn’t even act surprised. He only pulls Sehun impossibly closer, arms around his waist as he messily returns his advances, thinking _yeah, this is the only thing I want to do with my time, ever._ Sehun doesn’t think at all. His mind explodes into sparks of light. It reminds him of when they went to Lotte world, with Chanyeol so enamored by the fireworks. Sehun was more invested in the bright colors illuminating his best friend’s face.

 

Suddenly, Chanyeol is wary of the possibility of cameras, so he quickly disconnects their lips, resorting back to his fingers around Sehun’s wrist as he pulls him down the hallway and into the nearest restroom.

 

15 minutes later, the pair emerges, faces flushed, lips swollen, hair disheveled, and foundation ruined. They smile at each other, dopey grins before Chanyeol sends Sehun back into the photography room. He almost bursts out laughing when he hears a disgruntled, high-pitched sound of shock and disgust coming from the other side of the double doors before he traces the trail of faint vanilla through the double doors and back to his lover.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are very _very_ much appreciated! thank you for reading~


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